


Vanity

by orphan_account



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: Banter, Double Entendre, M/M, Massage, Romantic Friendship, Tickling, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7726441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe’s going through a dry spell. Murr is sympathetic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanity

“I think we can all agree that you have the nicest tits out of all of us,” Joe says as they walk towards their shared hotel room.

Murr blushes and tries to resist the urge to cover his chest with his hands or arms.

“I work out a lot. And the waxing makes ‘em look perkier,” Murr jokes.

“Does the waxing make them tender?” Joe asks, reaching over to tweak his nipple.

Murr’s hands shoot up to cover his chest, and he successfully deflects Joe’s assault. By that time, they had reached their hotel room, and Joe was then busy pulling out their key card. Murr breathes a sigh of relief. It felt good to finally rest after hours and hours of rehearsals, performances, and traveling. Joe makes for another grab when the door shuts behind them.

“Hey! Leave them alone, okay? If the waxer is doing it right, it doesn’t hurt much, but sometimes it can’t be avoided. And they get sore.”

“Why do you put yourself through that?” Joe asks. “What’s the point? Who are you trying to impress?”

“For your information, it’s a cleaner and it’s easier to stay clean. And without the hair, I sweat less, and you can see all my muscles.”

“And there we have it. The real reason, gentlemen: vanity,” Joe says, flopping down onto this bed. “Or should I say _van-titty_?”

Joe quickly wriggles out of his clothes, letting them fly and fall to wherever they chose to land. Murr pouts as he goes about getting ready for bed. He quickly strips down to his shorts, carefully placing his outfit on a chair to deal with later. Murr grabs a cotton tee and sighs when he pulls the soft, cool fabric over his torso. He climbs under his equally nice and cool sheets and stretches out like a satisfied cat.

“Anyway, it’s not that weird or anything. Lots of guys do it.”

“If by ‘guys’ you mean ‘homosexuals’ and by ‘it’ you mean ‘wax,’ then yeah, I guess a lot of guys do it,” Joe says.

“Right, because only gay guys should care about their appearances. The three of you are total slobs. Q’s a hobo. Your gut sticks out more than your nose. And Sal’s cat-fearing clean freak. So if the worst you can say about me is that I wax, then I guess I’m doing alright.”

“Alright, alright. I’m not tryin’ to make ya mad, buddy,” Joe says.

“I know,” Murr says quietly. “But I can’t help that I care about my appearance.”

Joe turns onto this side.

“If it helps, I think you’re damn cute.”

“Joe…”

“No, really, I mean it. We give you a lot of shit, but you’re arguably the best lookin’ one in the bunch. Call it a jealousy thing.”

One side of Murr’s mouth hitches up in a cautious smile.

“You mean it?”

“Of course I do, buddy. We all love you. You know the only reason we dish so hard is because we know you can take it and dish it right back.”

Murr sits up comically fast and looks around the room like a cartoon watchdog.

“Okay, where is Joe Gatto and what have you done with him? He must be around here somewhere. Maybe I should put out some doughnuts…”

Joe laughs.

“Don’t even tease me about the doughnut thing. I’d bend over backwards for a quality glaze.”

It’s enough to make Murr start laughing again, and his ribs start to hurt from laughing so much all day. He sucks in a breath with a wince as his hands clutch his sides. It was such a good kind of hurt though.

“Don’t hurt yourself there, bud. We need you in shape for tomorrow. This tour cannot afford to lose you, and I don’t feel like lugging your corpse around and sticking a pair of sunglasses on you,” Joe says.

“Then stop making me laugh so much! It’s actually starting to hurt!” he says indignantly.

“Getting tender again there, Murray?”

“Yeah, a little.”

Unconsciously, Murr kneads the sore muscles of his chest and sides, making sure to carefully check his ribs. He’d heard stories of people coughing and laughing so hard that their ribs broke or got bruised, and that was really something he didn’t want to deal with. Luckily felt like it was in place. He wished he has his liniment with him, but it was all the way across the room in his bag. Murr whines in frustration.

“You okay over there?”

“I’m-I’m fine. It’s just, I left my ointment in my bag, and I’m trying to muster up the strength to go get it.”

“Is this ointment for jerkin’ off or is this a medical thing?”

“Jesus, Joe. It’s for my muscles. You guys’ve got me laughing and running around like crazy, and I’m aching like an old man.”

“So just to clarify, this is _not_ something for your dingaling.”

“No!” Murr squeaks. “And it would be a big help if you could grab it for me.”

“The ointment or your ding—?”

“—The ointment, Joe. It’s in the side pocket.”

With much moaning and groaning, Joe manages to pull himself away from the tender embrace of his mattress and pillows. He gets the idea to further rummage through Murr’s bag but decides doing so would be even funnier when he was more awake. He can only hope to be awake before Murr tomorrow morning. He walks over to Murr’s bed, and Murr sits up with a wince.

“Here you go, pal. You need anything else?”

“Well, there actually _is_ something. And you’ll probably think it’s stupid or whatever, but can you—”

“Just spit it out, Murray. Come on, how long have we known each other?”

Murr looks down at the bottle in his hands.

“Can you get my back for me? It hurts to twist around.”

Joe gives a long, theatrical, put upon sigh and takes the bottle back.

“If I have to,” Joe huffs.

Murr breathes a sigh of relief and shifts to give Joe room to sit behind him. He peals his shirt off and hears the bottle cap pop open. Joe’s hands rub together to warm up the cream.

“Where am I startin’?” Joe asks.

“Shoulders first. Then-then shoulder blades. _Ahhh_ , thank you. That feels so fucking good.”

Joe’s hands curl around his shoulders and squeeze, and Murr whimpers first in pain and then in relief as Joe’s hands and the liniment worked the aches and pains away. Methodically, Joe kneads his way from shoulders to shoulder blades until he was at Murr’s waist.

“Oh, oh! Joe! No, that-that _tickles!_ ”

Joe laughs and it rumbles out from low in his throat and right into Murr’s ear. He shivers and tries to dodge Joe’s ministrations.

“Oh, my bad. Am I tickling you? Does it tickle when I do _this?_ ”

Murr squeals.

“Joe, please!” he begs and tears form at the corners of his eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Joe says with a laugh. “I’ll stop now. I’m sorry.”

“You did that on purpose,” Murr says over his shoulder.

“Who? Me?”

Murr gives him a look, and Joe goes back to the massage.

“That feels so much better,” Murr says when Joe finishes his back.

“Good, good, but what about your chest?” Joe asks.

Murr turns all the way around with a puzzled look on his face.

“I think I can reach that just fine.”

Murr holds out his hand for the bottle, but Joe doesn’t hand it over. Murr raises a newly grown in eyebrow.

“Joe, come on.”

“Maybe I wanna finish the job.”

Joe’s big blue eyes momentarily dart to his chest. Murr finds his hands reflexively covering himself up. Even in the half-dark of the room—the signs outside filter through the curtains pretty easily—Murr can see Joe’s face blush ten shades of crimson. It seems like a pretty harmless request, but something about it makes him feel all jittery inside.

“Okay. Okay, Joe, sure.”

Joe gives a nervous laugh.

“I, uh, I certainly wasn’t expectin’ that reaction. I—Why don’t you lie down so I can make sure I get all of ya.”

“I-I guess I could just…”

Murr makes himself comfortable on his pillow. Joe opens the bottle again, but instead of squirting it into his hands, he lets the cream drizzle down onto his chest and ribs and abs. Murr shivers.

“Cold?” Joe asks.

“Y-yeah.”

 _Sure_ , Murr thinks. _That was all it was._

“Let me warm that up for ya,” Joe says.

He starts with Murr’s sides and then moves over to accommodate Murr’s stomach. He rubs the cream in until the white of the cream has dissolved into Murr’s skin. His muscles twitch a few times as Joe voluntarily and involuntarily tickled him again.

“Joe?” Murr asks as Joe finishes up with his ribs.

“Yeah, bud?”

“Why are you doing this?”

Joe licks his lips nervously but continue the massage. He had kind of been hoping Murray wouldn't ask him, but now he was expecting an answer, and he can't think of a goddamn thing to say other than the honest truth.

“I don’t know if it’s ‘cause I’m tired as hell or because you’re just cute as hell when you were whimpering about your sore muscles or because I haven’t gotten laid in a while, but I kinda just want to smear this stuff all over your tits,” Joe confesses.

“Jesus, Joe.”

“I know. I know how it sounds. But fuck, seeing all this white shit all over you and touching you is more action than I’ve had in weeks. Look, if you want to tell me to go fuck myself, which I’ve been doing extensively lately, I understand.”

“Dude, you could have just _said_ something to one of us. I mean, come on. We’re all guys here. We get it.”

Joe laughs and shakes his head. This was all so ridiculous, especially when he was saying it out loud.

“I’m pretty sure Sal and Q wouldn’t understand me coming on to you.”

“They don’t have to know,” Murr says quietly.

And it sounds like he’s talking about more than the ointment and the massage. Joe watches as Murr sits up again and scoots closer to Joe. His eyes widen as Murr brings a hand up to cup the back of his head.

“This isn’t a prank, is it?” Joe asks.

Murr reaches out his free hand to grab one of Joe’s and places it on his left pec. Joe can feel Murr’s heart going a million miles a minute.

It’s answer enough.


End file.
